Perhaps it was just me, but every time I managed to steal a glance at the sofa, it seemed not as white anymore. Of course, it was still white; pristine and clean, but in my mind it seemed to me that it had changed a shade, going from a true white to an off-white. It had been sullied. I could no longer look at it the same way. I hadn’t even managed to sit on it since, choosing instead the old faded floral armchair. It was so out of place in the apartment, but it had belonged to my grandmother, so I had insisted on keeping it.
Stephen hadn’t made it over the next night, for what he had claimed would be the rest of his late payment. Fearing he had stood me up or was doing it as some sort of power play, I’d been avoiding him like the plague out of anger. Some days I’d even taken a long way and used the back stairs to get in and out of the building, so there was no chance of having to face him in the elevator or down the hall where his own apartment was.
I told myself it was better that way; that I didn’t really like him anyway, so what did it matter that he hadn’t kept a promise? He could be an asshole, and this was just more proof of it. I was obviously of little matter to him, and he’d just continue to watch me squirm and have money issues, for his own sick satisfaction. Deep down though, I couldn’t deny that it had stung.
I was out on the balcony, watering my potted plants when I heard the door slam, followed by Erika calling out my name. “I’m out here,” I yelled back, as I was bent over my Sweet William plant.
“Hey,” she said. She then asked with a bit of a smirk, “Have you taken up smoking again?”
I sighed. “No, I haven’t, not really anyway.” I took one last drag of the stupid thing and stubbed it out. “It’s just, I am so stressed right now, E.”
Offering no help at all, Erika sat herself down on one of my outdoor lounge chairs and flicked through the magazine she’d bought with her.
“Is Dean working again today?” I asked, trying to make conversation as I watered my plants and gave them some attention.
Erika clucked her tongue. “Yes, he is. He’s doing even more over time, something about a new opening in another department that he wants to go for, so he’s angling for a promotion.”
“Well, that’s great news. Good for Dean,” I replied.
Again, Erika made a noise, making her annoyance at her husband clear. “Being married to someone who is great news is hard work, Laney. He’s married to his job. What about me? What about my department opening? Does our marriage mean nothing to him?”
“Oh, Erika, foul-mouthed,” I replied. I moved some pots around, so they all had an equal chance at the sun and shade, and then said, “Honestly, Erika, the way you treat that man sometimes, he’s a saint for putting up with you. Dean adores you, you know that.”
“Do I?” she asked, turning her frustration on me. My sister had been in my presence for less than five minutes, and already I had the craving for another cigarette, to make the stress go away. Looking down at the ground, it was too late to salvage my smoke; it was stubbed out and discarded, much like how I was currently feeling.
I couldn’t go down that path again of picking up the smokes and getting addicted, so I went inside and got some coffee ready instead, to hopefully ease the cravings and make me feel better. Erika followed me in, once more parking herself on my furniture and not saying much.
Flicking through her gossip rag magazine, Erika asked, “Do you want to go to the mall with me and get your nails done?”
“No thanks,” I replied.
“It’ll be good for you, it will help you relax, you’ll feel a lot better,” Erika said, trying to convince me.
“No thank you,” I said, trying to make myself clearer.
Erika rolled her eyes at me and then settled back into the couch where Stephen and I had fucked. “Why don’t you take a friend?” I asked. “What’s Lindsay up to these days? Or Rochelle?”
“Lindsay got her nose done last week, so she’s too scared to go out, and I don’t hang around with Rochelle much. Ever since her grandmother died last month, she’s been such a downer.”
That was so typical Erika, only concerned about herself and how she felt. Never mind that her friend was in need after losing someone, Erika’s only concern was when Rochelle would feel ‘better’ again so they could hang out.
The sound of my cell phone ringing while I was getting the coffee broke the temporary silence that was in between my sister and I. Checking the screen, Stephen’s name flashed across it. I ignored it and continued on with my quest for something to satisfy my craving for a cigarette. I felt jittery and shaky, the only thing my mind could focus on was smoking and the sweet, sweet release of lighting up. I felt hungry all of a sudden too, which was not uncommon for me when I was off the smokes.
If I was going to give up, this time for good, no quick secret cigs or the occasional stress smoke, I needed better food in the house to temporarily curb the cravings. I’d have to push my diet to the wayside until I was through the worst of it. I’d been in a bit of denial, telling myself that my smoking didn’t count, as they were Winston Lights, but I wasn’t a fool. I needed to quit. Snack foods would be the only way to get me through it, otherwise, I’d be like a bear with a sore head. I’d been bad over the last few days, almost going through a pack.
Richard never knew I smoked. I’d kept it secret for the duration of our relationship. I’d gotten so good at hiding the smokes and having quick, sneaky cigs that even to this day, I still had a thing about smoking in the presence of other people and trying to hide it. I made sure I lit up either outside, so the smell wouldn’t get into the apartment, or I’d do it near a steady airflow. Smoking out the small bathroom window in an old dressing gown I no longer wore, so the smell wouldn’t get back into my clothes, was a habit I had mastered.
Of course, when we first met the day I turned eighteen, I had lied straight to my future husband’s face and told him it was my first time smoking, that I was only trying it because my friends had egged me on. Peer pressure, and all that bull. He believed me, and for the first four months of our relationship, I had given up and was smoke-free.
That had all changed after he proposed. Erika had come back to my parents' house with the dresses for the big day, which was only a few weeks away at that stage. We did a quick change and tried on the dresses, and my stupid wedding gown didn’t fit. It was perfect in every way, except for the fact that I was too big for it. I had a dilemma on my hands, and I didn’t know if I could send it back to Donna to get altered in time.
I made the executive decision to take up the smokes again that afternoon. It had worked, I fitted into my dress on the day, but it meant I had to smoke in secret, as well as try and quit in secret. Richard had no idea what was going on, he just thought I was being a mood. He’d also been unkind about my initial weight gain at the time.
The sound of my landline phone ringing interrupted my thoughts, as I sat down at the table and drank my coffee.
“Answer the phone,” Erika said in a nagging tone. “It’s really annoying.”
I rolled my eyes and ignored the phone, enjoying my coffee too much and starting to feel better. As was apparently her thing that morning, Erika made a noise of frustration and stood up, going over to pick the phone up. “No, don’t,” I told her. “Let it ring, the machine can get it.”
A few seconds later, the machine clicked and Stephen’s voice filled the room.”Hi, Elaine, I’m just calling in regards to what we spoke about the other night. Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it, something unavoidable came up. If you’re going to be home tonight I’ll swing by. Okay, bye.”
When the sound of the dial tone beeped, indicating that his message was over, I felt terrible. He had sounded so sincere and genuine, and I was left feeling like a bitch. I questioned my stance on avoiding him and my dislike of the man.
“Who was that?” Erika asked, all of a sudden alert, like a young hound who had picked up a scent. She was now kneeling on the couch, looking at me expectantly.
“Mind your business, Erika please.”
Erika stuck her tongue out at me and then settled back into reading her magazine. “So,” I heard her say. “Finally over Richard, are you? Have you found some loser to crack on to?” She was trying to tease and taunt me and get a reaction, but I was not playing her stupid little game.
“Let it be,” I said. She really was doing her best to add to my stress levels.
Erika smiled in the way I had learned early on in my life to hate. When she had a shit-eating grin on her face, it was going to be a long ride of antagonizing and being wound up. “Just be careful,” she said, licking a fingertip and flicking over a page of her magazine in a way that radiated attitude. I felt attacked even from that small gesture.
I knew by now not to fall for a statement like that, as she was being anything but considerate or concerned for me. “You’ll get yourself a reputation,” she said in a taunting, sing-songy way.
“Are you kidding me?” I flared up. “That is so rich coming from you, the girl who after junior year in high school was said to have had more fucks than feeds!”
“Who said that?” Erika asked, almost yelling in a high pitched voice. My game had at least worked, as she was no longer concerned about the man on the phone calling me.
“Everyone said that.”
“Oh yeah,” she said awkwardly, searching her brain for something to use against me. It was like we were teenagers again having a loud, catty bickering match, except this time our mother wasn’t here to quieten us both down and yell ‘time out,’ at us. “You only got picked for the cheer squad because your tits grew huge the summer you turned seventeen, the other girls didn’t even like you that much.”
“Oh Erika,” I said.
I was over this petty little fight of ours, however, Erika was not, she just had to get one final stab of the knife in. “Bernadette Smith and Monica Winton slept with your boyfriend that year too.”
“You’re a little b,” I told her. I was so over her shit.
------------------------------------
I hated myself for getting ready for Stephen’s visit. I, of course, made myself look nice and done up, but not too done up, I couldn’t for one second let him know that this was on purpose. I needed him to believe that I wasn’t invested in this or looking forward to it. I may have shaved in the shower, done my hair and makeup and made myself smell nice, but I made sure I looked as if I were casual as if this was all leftover from my day time errands.
In terms of his last visit my appearance had been a happy accident, I needed it to be like that again. So when I heard the knock on the door just as I had slid my day dress over my body, I quickly reminded myself that it was action stations and that I had initiated this so I could knock my bills down.
And yet, when I opened the door and saw him standing there, smiling nervously and looking flustered, a bunch of beautiful irises in hand, I felt my resistance fading. My hard heart softened a touch as I motioned him in and accepted the bouquet of flowers.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Stephen said to me. I had found an old china vase in the back of one of the cupboards, and I was now filling it with water and arranging the beautiful blue and purple blooms. I didn’t answer him at first, I didn’t know whether I should deny it or admit to it. “Elaine?” he asked me tilting his head, making sure I was paying attention.
“So what if I have?” I asked. I hated that I sounded so defensive.
“I am sorry about the other night, but what happened, I couldn’t avoid it.” The smug look returned to his face when he said to me, “I had no idea you liked me so much and put such store in my visits.”
“It’s a business transaction, nothing more,” I said in a steely voice.
“I’m hurt that you’d say that, Elaine,” Stephen said. He walked over to the bench where I was standing and covered my hand with his, the intoxicating yet subtle aroma of the flowers filling the air. From that single touch, I felt pulses of electricity burst through me. “Think of this as more an arrangement between friends. Quid pro quo.”